Reign of the Burned Fox
by Phaenur
Summary: Taken in for medical care as a cub, exiled a scant few seasons later, Duveer the fox is left adrift in Mossflower with too much knowledge to act on his pain yet too much pain to let his reason hold him back. With a tribe of his own cobbled together from all manner of beasts, he sets out on a private campaign against the great Redwall - armed with the abbey's own records...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** There are a few things I need to confess before anyone starts reading this. First, it's an "Outcast of Redwall" story - vermin (fox, in this case) taken into the Abbey briefly and then cast aside for a mix of real and imagined wrongdoings. I know this can be an alienating premise on its own, so I wanted to make it abundantly clear before anyone gets too deep into the story.

Second, I'm truly hideous at accents and dialects, which is why there will be as few moles as possible in this piece. Even with the animated show for context and the books open as a reference, I doubt I'd be able to do more than flounder around.

Third, and related, I'm an American, and while I've read enough books from across the pond to have a working knowledge of the differences in British and American English I'm not confident enough in that knowledge to properly Britpick. If anyone would like to give me some pointers I may revise the story to use more appropriate spelling and vocabulary, but without guidance I don't think I'd do more than make a hash of it.

With those disclaimers out of the way, and the standard legal disclaimer that the Redwall setting, characters, and other intellectual property rights belong to the estate of Brian Jacques, please enjoy the story as I cobble it together.

* * *

Duveer's pointy ears perked up as an unusual noise filtered through the door. He wasn't particularly engrossed in this chronicle, probably something to do with the utterly illegible script of whichever Recorder had been responsible for it. So perhaps the noise wasn't strange, just not one he'd paid enough attention to before. The swishing of habits and clacking of sandals against Redwall Abbey's polished stone floors weren't really rare sounds, after all, even up here in the quiet corner outside the Recorder's chamber.

The fox kit grunted and turned back to the scroll, squinting his eyes at the swirling and spiraling letters in the forlorn hope that he'd be able to make them out eventually. But something at the edge of his sight drew his attention. Brother Avery, the current – _and far more legible, if you ask me_ – Abbey Recorder, had picked his chin up off his ink-stained paws and was staring at the door with his brow furrowed. The old mouse rarely looked disconcerted at all, and it frequently took his apprentice's shrillest nagging to wake him from a late afternoon nap. The fox set the scroll down gingerly, careful to take good care of the brittle parchment, and looked directly at his caretaker.

Brother Avery stabbed his tail sharply towards the row of cubbyholes just behind the fox. A little trickle of black ink dripped from his wrist to splatter on his stone writing desk as he brought a finger to his lips. Duveer knew from experience that the esteemed Recorder's mind never stopped running no matter how dozy he might seem, and so he scrambled up onto the wide shelf he'd just been resting his neck against. _If Brother Avery's worried, and by the looks of things worried for_ me _, I'm not about to argue!_

Unfortunately, like every other time he'd tried to hop up on the shelf, Duveer's limp and furless tail snagged on the wood. Even with Brother Avery right there, already packing scrolls around the fox, he wasn't able to swallow his yip of pain. He felt more than saw the Recorder's anxious twist towards the door. But it wasn't his fault his back and tail were burned and scarred past recognition! No, that was all because of some accursed squirrel tribe!

A slightly damp paw stroked Duveer high on his shoulder, safely above the last of the dull purple flesh, and he choked back the growl that had been building in his throat. "Sorry," he mouthed into his bright orange belly fur as Brother Avery rammed one last scroll home and stepped back from the shelf. With nothing else to do until his mentor gave the all-clear, the little fox studied his temporary nest. Brother Avery had never explained why this one cubbyhole was twice as tall and twice again as wide as all the rest, but it hadn't taken Duveer much thought to work it out. Not like Brother Avery's other apprentices! In particular, he'd had to outright demonstrate it for Gavin, and that fool mouse rarely did anything but doze off in the first place.

He traced a claw idly along one of the perfectly rectangular rows of slightly coarse and discolored wood. _So regular, and I'd swear on Ma's ashes that there was sawdust the first time I had to scour it down. Really, nobeast ever bothered thinking about it before I got here?_ In fairness, he'd had to scrub these shelves so many times as punishment for some accusation or other that he'd probably been the first to really give it any attention. _Well, it's a cozy enough bed, and Brother Avery's done everything short of tell me he used it to nap away his own work when he was my age. Though I get the idea that he's not the first either._

The door creaked open gently and Duveer stiffened, determined to hold his breath for as long as he could. "Father Abbot!" Avery exclaimed as his stool clattered to the ground. The fox's heart battered at his ribs – Brother Avery had made it very clear to him that none of the other Abbeybeasts were supposed to know that the fox had an apprenticeship, especially not in the Recording Room. So if Abbot Tristam was here, now, then...

"Ah, Avery, it's always a pleasure. I hope I didn't wake you –"

"– Where's the fox?" _All right, now I don't know what I'm trying to feel. Could be fear, could be worry, but it's probably annoyance. Not like Gavin deserves anything stronger, I don't think!_ But whatever he was feeling, he dutifully held back whatever face and sound went with it. _Pa always said never to let a woodlander get under your fur. They always want to think I'm up to something, and if I give them the tiniest reason I'll never convince them I'm innocent. That's what he said, and Pa was never wrong._

He could perfectly picture _Brother_ Avery's face. _Though I suppose if anyone can address him with such familiarity it's Father Tristam. Not like Gavin's simpering._ The old mouse's head would be tilted to his right just slightly, a tiny smile at his lips, his muzzle perfectly angled to be humble or scornful based purely on his audience's guilty conscience. "Little Duveer? Why, has he used kitchen duty to try the October Ale again?" It was all the fox could do not to retch – the Abbey's ale was far, far too strong for his tender young throat. Their cordials and wines, on the other paw...

"Don't waste your time hiding that tailless rat – er, I mean, ah..." Gavin trailed off – _as he so often does_ , _whether he's put his footpaw in his mouth or not,_ Duveer thought. He wasn't even bothering to swallow his smirk anymore.

"Well, it seems that _somebeast_ has been at the casks today!" _Don't snigger, Duveer, don't snigger._ "Or, if there _is_ a rat in the Abbey these days, you'll have to introduce me sometime."

Even through the scrolls Duveer could hear Gavin scraping his paw on the floor. "I'm sorry, Master Avery, that was wrong of me," he said hesitantly, taking whole seconds to work out each word as he came to it. "He and I have never gotten along, and I'm even madder than usual today. But I suppose I'm still his host and shouldn't make such a fuss, right?"

Duveer's smirk vanished, and he was reasonably sure Brother Avery's smile had run off at the same time. He doubted anyone particularly believed Gavin's spells of politeness, but they all had to pretend they did or else he'd never bother with good behavior again. In fact, it had been Father Tristam who'd said that. _But couldn't he break that rule once in a while for my sake? Please?_

Apparently he couldn't. "Gavin here has told me something very disquieting, Brother Avery. Two things, in fact. And while I do not approve of his tone, I have already lectured him myself when he came to me with the news. And I cannot blame him for losing his temper. Gavin, please, show our dear Recorder your tail."

Brother Avery hissed sharply, the sort of sound Duveer expected from himself far more than the gentle old mouse. "From how you've been talking, child, you're going to tell me that our guest is responsible for that." Someone was pacing eerily close to the fox's hiding place. "I'm...not sure what to say. Frankly, I trust Duveer more than I trust many in this Abbey, and I'm not yet convinced he's at fault. But I cannot deny that injury either. Please, Gavin, continue. I want to learn the entire story."

The young mouse cleared his throat. "Well, sir, I got into an argument with him this morning. He told me I wasn't worthy of being your student and we, er, well..." The Abbot and his Recorder had distinct and unforgettable "go on" frowns, and Duveer didn't doubt that Gavin was withering under both at once. "I threw the first blow. I know, I know, I was wrong. But he caught my wrist and twisted me around, then he stomped on the base of my tail until it popped!"

Duveer's stomach heaved. His own tail had been abused so badly that Gavin's story set it blazing with sympathetic pain. And finally his control failed and let his back arch spastically, his body trying to fight against the three-pronged assault of pain, nausea, and bad memories. And then, to his terror, his charred tail started to freeze, senses overwhelmed by even the sun-kissed Abbey air.

"Rather drafty here, isn't it? Father, I think our young friend would be more comfortable if you would close the door." The fox couldn't believe that his caretaker had missed his tail, so why was he trapping... _ah. Actually, that's quite clever. I need to stop panicking or I'll make assumptions as bad as theirs usually are._ The door thudded shut. "It doesn't seem to be paining you now, does it, Gavin? Brother Dolin truly is a miracle worker."

 _Oh my, Gavin's started panting. Took him this long to remember he's in pain._ "Actually, Master Avery, it really didn't hurt all that much even at the start. But I can't feel the end of my tail anymore either. Not the breeze, not the grass, not the Abbey dust."

 _By the Black Forest, how did he come up with that? I know_ I _never told him how my back and tail thought all season after they burned our cart!_ Duveer frowned, grumbling just faintly as he took a quiet breath. _Maybe...something really did happen to his tail? But how? What did he do to it?_

"I'm sorry," Brother Avery said very softly. "I cannot tell you any more than Dolin can about whether it will heal properly in time. But, and forgive me for asking, what was your argument about? Duveer has always been a clever and impressively well-read child, but I never sensed that sort of jealousy for your place as my apprentice." _Because I already_ know _I deserve it more than you do, Gavin. I don't need to bother fighting with you over it, whether mine's official or not._

"Honestly? He's a fox, what do you expect? He's always going to be jealous of us woodlanders and Abbeybeasts, and he's always going to hide it so we don't punish him."

"Gavin!" Father Tristam cut in, voice severe enough to set Duveer on the edge of trembling.

"I'm inclined to agree with the Abbot, child." Though Brother Avery's words were gentle, all of the laughter had gone from his tone, and that chilled Duveer more than any wind against his burns ever could. "All three of us know the histories, that's true, and you are sadly right about most of the foxes our Abbey has had dealings with across the seasons. But when you look at how much of his life Duveer has spent chopping onions and scrubbing plates, I think any accusation of him 'avoiding his punishment' is a little far-fetched."

Gavin muttered something Duveer hoped the two elders would pretend not to hear. Then, "I'm sorry, Father Abbot, Master Avery. Maybe I shouldn't have come to you so soon. I'll have myself under control by tomorrow, promise." He shuffled around a little, habit rustling right outside of Duveer's nest. "By the way, Master Avery, have you taken up charcoal sketching? I haven't seen this lying about the last few times you've had me in here."

And then, with no further warning, he yanked hard on the root of Duveer's tail.

The nausea the fox had felt over Gavin's tail came back a thousandfold as his entire back lit up like it was on fire all over again. He shrieked and writhed around, ripping his wounded body out of the hated mouse's grip only to scrape his scabrous skin against the wall behind him. Through suddenly teary eyes he saw Gavin lurching away from his echoing scream. And then he was squinting too hard to see anything, trying frantically to hold in his bile. There was a pile of scrolls right in front of him, after all, and it would not do to vomit across such fine reading material. Even if two thirds of them were just dull ancient almanacs.

 _This isn't the first time this has happened! I'll get through this one too!_ He shook vigorously as if he was casting water out of the coat he deserved to have. His pain seemed to have evened out somewhat, just like what Gavin had been talking about in his fantasy story. _Really, how_ did _he come up with that? Maybe one of the old stories mentioned it and I just can't remember?_ His thoughts were settling down too, and he hesitantly opened his eyes. After all, he probably wasn't going to enjoy what he saw.

 _Bah. I hate it when I'm right._

It wasn't entirely bad, he supposed. Gavin's face in particular was a fascinating conflict between panic and smugness, though now that the fox had stopped screaming smugness was definitely gaining ground. But the Abbot was giving him the most damning glare he'd ever seen in those usually gentle eyes, worse even than the time he'd buried Jem the otter's ceramic tankard in the mud of the Abbey pond – _that was his daughter's fault, though! She got me stuck cleaning dishes all through the last three visitor's feasts. It was completely fair that I finally gave them something to scrub out too!_ That argument hadn't worked on Father Tristam then, though, and it was only distracting him from what was probably about to happen now.

And from Brother Avery. He'd taken a quick glance at his caretaker and steadfastly refused to look at him again. His slightly cloudy yet shining eyes were now deeply hooded, his head hanging down like that rat whose back his Pa had broken long ago. The Recorder's sadness threatened to rush out and flood Duveer too, and so he twisted his head away to focus entirely on the Abbot.

But Father Tristam wouldn't even allow him that comfort. "Brother Avery, what have you done?"

* * *

Not for the first time, Duveer marveled at how silently the Badgermum could lie in ambush for troublemaking foxes. Lady Dinah had been right outside the door the entire time, her massive paws waiting to parade him down to the Abbot's chambers. She held Gavin's shoulder at least as tightly and was careful with his now-weeping burn scars, but even though he was grateful for both of those considerations they still weren't comforting.

Frigid little teeth gnawed his back and tail. He'd turned down the offer of an abbey novice's habit back at the beginning, opting instead for a so-called tunic that was more like a confused apron. The heavy linen the rest of the abbeydwellers favored was soft to the paw but still aggravated his scars, especially his poor stub of a tail. So instead the Abbot had offered him one of his own outfits, cut to avoid the silvery forest of spikes that jutted from his back. The compromise in Duveer's case, of course, was that his scars had no protection from the chilly air of the abbey's deeper halls. It wasn't normally a problem – if anything, the itch was a reminder that even his worst wounds weren't truly dead yet – but he always felt it a lot more sharply when he was being dragged down to face Abbot Tristam's justice.

And it was worse today, because the person he'd managed to drag down with him didn't even deserve it! Well, Gavin deserved it just for existing, of course, but of course that wasn't who he'd meant. Brother Avery had done nothing but live up to the abbey's ideals. Or perhaps he _had_ violated them – he wasn't wrong about Redwall's unfortunate encounters with other foxes – but that wasn't a violation Duveer would have ever lost sleep over. He sneaked a quick look at Gavin's face and recoiled, growling low and deep in his throat at the pride and satisfaction on the mouse's plain face. _Clearly,_ he _lost quite a lot of sleep over it._ The fox's lip curled up at the back, displaying his fangs in a way he seldom dared to do around woodlanders. _Good._

But he'd also seen his enemy's tail, and just like Brother Avery he couldn't deny the reality of the injury. His long bald tail was crooked sharply about a third of the way from the base, though something still seemed off about his story. Aside from the fact that he'd blamed Duveer, of course, since the fox had barely slept and run straight to his favorite scrolls before sunrise. He squinted at the tail, but whatever the mouse's lie was he couldn't pin it down.

Father Tristam had been muttering to himself all the while, but Duveer kept his ears tucked tight to his skull. He probably didn't want to hear it anyway. From the tightness of Brother Avery's face, he knew it would have only left him feeling even guiltier. Of course, the Abbot was a master of that art anyway, so the fox knew full well that anything he was dodging now would just settle in ten times as heavily when the lecturing started.

And here it came now. The elderly hedgehog fiddled with the clasp on his door until it swung open with barely a creak, far lighter than the tree trunk of a door to the Recorder's room. Badgermum Dinah nudged her captives into the room with reassuring gentleness, though it was still enough to set Gavin staggering. Duveer had no such problem – after all, he had five seasons of experience to his name. Which was undoubtedly why his stomach was leaden and his throat tasted of ash before the Abbot had even said anything.

Brother Avery had walked in alongside the Abbot, but like the two abbey youths he sat on the stone just before Father Tristam's cushioned oak armchair. In fact, he'd reached his spot before the Abbot had made it to his chair, and quirked his head in surprise when Tristam tapped his shoulder.

"There's no need for you to hurt yourself, Avery," the hedgehog said with a short laugh. "There are cushions behind you for a reason. Please, be comfortable." But Brother Avery shook his head slowly and tapped the hard stone, and the Abbot sighed heavily. "The offer stands, my friend. But know that I appreciate your gesture. And I hope it's not lost on them."

For his part Duveer squatted down; his legs and stomach immediately started burning. He knew that invitation wasn't for him just as well as he knew his haunches and tail would never forgive him for sitting down cross-legged like the others, though, so it was always worth getting a little exercise. Especially if Brother Avery was going to join them on the hard abbey sandstone.

Gavin, of course, knew none of those things. Duveer watched out of the corner of his eye as he fumbled for one of the well-stuffed green pillows. But he caught Father Tristam's gaze just as he finally laid paw on one and immediately let go, rocking away from it without unfolding his legs. Duveer snorted, and if the Abbot disapproved of _that_ then he really didn't care.

He gave no sign of whether he approved or not, however, simply clearing his throat. "Lady Dinah, if you would seal the door?"

"Already done," she grumbled back.

"Very well then." Abbot Tristam coughed again and studied his paws for a moment, then looked Duveer straight in the eyes. The fox winced away almost instantly. "First, the matter of Gavin's injury. You've seen it now, and I'm fairly certain you'd seen it before. And I know you overheard his story. What defense of your actions will you offer this time?"

Duveer's neck strained as he forced himself to meet the Abbot's gaze. Even still, he blinked frantically. "What actions, Father Abbot? I was in the Recorder's chamber since sunup – I even skipped breakfast! I'm sure someone noticed that, and Brother Avery will back me too. He arrived only a few moments after I did."

Father Tristam raised his chin, giving a high nod to the Recorder. "Well, Avery?"

"Of course, Tristam. He'd let himself in and was going over the old...let's see, it was the Mariel saga again, wasn't it? Said he'd had bad dreams and his scars were itching, so he came to my office to relax." The old mouse was smiling, but it was a thin and triumphant smile that lacked all of his usual welcome. "And before you ask, I was with him the entire time. I skipped my own breakfast to make sure he settled down properly, then I set him a task – what was that again, child?" His tone sharpened as he whipped around to look at Duveer, and the fox started to panic as he realized it was a pop quiz.

"Um, let me see...restoration, I remember that, but which story? It wasn't one of my usual favorites and...ugh, I'm completely drawing a blank on the season!"

The Abbot closed his eyes and steepled his paws. "I...see." He turned to Gavin, eyes still shut. "When would you say this happened?"

"Me? Um, oh. It was just a short while ago – maybe half an hour? Er, no, that was probably when I found you. More like three-quarters." Gavin swallowed a few times and settled down. "I didn't even go to see Brother Dolin because I thought I needed to report it right away." He glared at Duveer, who had absolutely no trouble matching _him_. "Before the fox ran away again."

Abbot Tristam rubbed his eyes. "You realize that neither of you has a trustworthy witness, correct? If you'd reported to Dolin right away you'd at least have had someone to say how severe the wound was at first and when it happened. As it is, we've just got your word and the break in your tail."

"Excuse me, Father Abbot." Duveer raised a paw like he was down in cheeserolling class under Friar Beddoes. "You said 'neither of us' had our stories supported. What about Brother Avery, though?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth he crumpled, barely able to keep his tail from scraping the stone. _He was probably just waiting for some idiot to say that, wasn't he? Some charred foxy idiot._

"Ah." At last the Abbot opened his eyes, once again staring directly into Duveer's. "That brings us to the second issue, I suppose. Avery, I'm certain you already understand how disappointed I am that you let a fox into our records. And I'm also surprised, since you were the one who refused him most fervently when he first came to us for care. Don't bother to deny it, you've already confessed today."

"I wasn't going to." That thin smile was still there in spite of everything. Duveer marveled at his mentor's nerve. "He knew more of letters and stories when he arrived, barely more than a Dibbun, than most Abbeybeasts do after twelve seasons of study. More than that, he knew other versions of our histories – outside versions. How could I turn that sort of experience away, even if it was bundled in the body of an enemy?" He chuckled briefly, smile never slipping, and amazement started to give way to fear. Fear _for_ his mentor and _of_ him in equal measure. "Besides, in my mind it kept him out of trouble for as much time as I could keep him bundled up with my scrolls and away from everybeast else."

Abbot Tristam nodded slowly. "I see. Though I'm still curious about how you first found out, considering how little you trusted him at first. All of your reading must have taught you how dangerous a wild fox can be, of course?"

Still that same quiet smile. "Of course. And don't think that didn't immediately come to my mind when I opened the door to see him tangled up in scrolls with his back weeping all over my floor. And then I realized just what I was looking at – a child who could understand and enjoy our old Recorders' scrawlings even while his eyes were glued shut by tears – and by the time old Sister Gwyn hauled him back up to the infirmary I'd invited him back."

"I knew it!" Gavin shrieked. "I knew he was your favorite! What were Talma and I to you then, just distractions?"

"Gavin..." Abbot Tristam warned, but Brother Avery waved him away.

"No, Gavin. You two were certainly more difficult students than dear Duveer was, but that was only because you had your own goals and talents. He was a far better reader and had some knowledge of pensmanship when he arrived, but I doubt he could match you with a fishing pole! Tell the truth, child, you're only learning from me for the sake of learning all you can – a laudable goal – than because you truly want to spend your life restoring old records."

Gavin clenched his fists and sat up perfectly rigidly. "No! I value our time and your instruction, and I definitely don't want to see some two-faced fox learning all our weaknesses! Maybe he's tricked you, Master Avery, but he's never going to fool me. I'm not falling for another Vitch, do you hear?"

Duveer felt his own mouth curling up into a smile that paralleled Brother Avery's. "Vitch? Well, I guess you actually have read some of the records while you were up there. Let's see, young rat, about your age, sent into the abbey by Slagar the Slaver as a spy about a week in advance of the fox's raid and then used first as a guard and then a slave himself as the company tried to escape from Matthias the Warrior. Does that sound about right, Brother?" Avery nodded, still wearing that eerie smile. "To me, the most important part of that is that 'a week before.' I've been here five seasons now and there's been nothing of the sort!"

"Well, maybe – _maybe_ , I doubt it – you're smarter than he was! Why else would you be so jealous of us other students if you weren't afraid we'd catch you doing something you shouldn't be?"

Duveer snorted. "Jealous of you and Talma? You're right, why would I be jealous of you two? Like Brother Avery said, you two were never really even interested in penmanship or history. Not the way I am. So what makes you think I was ever jealous at all? You've really got me curious, mouse." He puffed out his cheeks a bit as he realized how he'd phrased that last bit. It definitely wasn't going to help his argument if he voluntarily sounded like an outsider, but on the other paw he was completely through with humoring Gavin.

And now it was the young mouse's turn to put on a tight yet victorious smile. "For starters? What you told me when you stomped my tail this morning."

"I. Did. Nothing. Of. The. Sort." Duveer's fangs were bared in earnest now. He could hear Lady Dinah shifting behind him, but she hadn't yanked him away from Gavin yet and he was determined to make the most of it. "Brother Avery knows that full well, and so do you!"

"Are you calling me, a proud child of Redwall Abbey, a liar?"

" _Who_ caught that fish last Midsummer's? You sang your own praises, but I say I helped Kay and Beddey haul it ashore."

Gavin was on his feet now, and Duveer catapulted up to meet him – and to enjoy the relief that flooded through his cramped legs. "We all know how much you nap, Master Avery, and at your age who can blame you? I'm just saying you might not have been watching him the whole time."

Duveer had voluntarily dulled his claws to make the Abbeybeasts feel safer, but they'd clearly grown back since the last time he'd touched them. Certainly enough to shave Gavin's fur and pierce his skin at the end of the fox's massive slap. The impact echoed through the Abbot's chamber as Dinah wrestled him to the ground, no longer caring about his old injuries. His tail lit up as it bent against the stone and his back froze over an instant later, and if the Badgermum didn't loosen her grip soon he wouldn't have a right shoulder to come back to, but it was all worth it to see the shock on Gavin's face. _How could anybeast stand aside when someone calls such a dear friend senile, anyway? I doubt an Abbey Warrior would have stood for it, so why should I?_

"Enough! Both of you!" The fox had heard Father Tristam angry before, but he'd never imagined the stooped old hedgehog could sound so commanding. Out of deference he stopped writhing in the Badgermum's grasp, holding himself down to more of an itchy wriggle. "This clearly requires more investigation than what I can learn from either of you. Until then, Gavin, you will report to Brother Dolin and get your tail treated. You will see no visitors and cannot leave the infirmary until I inform him otherwise, as you clearly need time to let your temper cool. And you," for the first time since coming to Redwall, Duveer was able to meet the Abbot's stare without flinching away, "you will be locked away from the other Abbeybeasts until I can come to a decision. Milady Dinah, escort Duveer to the cellars and bar him in."

"Tristam, I must protest. Clearly –"

But the Abbot was past listening to argument. "Clearly I cannot trust your judgment where this fox is concerned, Brother Avery. You are not to allow him into the records again even if he is found innocent. He can find some other interest to pursue. Regardless, if I have to chase him out of the records chamber again I will chase you out at the same time, and that will be the end of it. Am I understood?"

Brother Avery muttered something Duveer pretended not to hear. _Who knew he'd have paid so much attention when I told him about "The Lays of the Gullywhacker?" I prefer the original story, of course, but there's something to be said for the sort of saga your father cuffs you for reading under the cart._ But when all was over, he hadn't protested any further. If even stubborn and inventive old Avery wasn't willing to keep fighting the Abbot on this, what chance did Duveer have alone?

"Do not even try to argue down my judgments," Tristam warned before the fox could even come up with a rebuttal. He twisted his head to look over at Gavin, who had puffed himself up to say...well, the fox didn't know what he would have said, but it would probably have been either hilarious or depressing. Gavin seldom said anything that wasn't one or the other. "Duveer, you have been our welcome guest for five brief seasons, and you have already learned much. But surely your most frequent lesson has been that we do not tolerate fighting among the Abbeybeasts." He wheeled, spikes blurring behind him. "And you, Gavin, you have been taught this from the beginning, and yet you have antagonized him with nearly every word you spoke today. You both must endure your punishments and try to learn from the experience. We try to reward good behavior, but I cannot overlook this sort of hatred."

"Yes, Father Abbot," Gavin muttered.

Duveer swallowed down the stale air in his throat and thought about what to say. "Father Abbot, I –"

"No, Duveer. Gavin, follow me. Milady, you may take him away."

Duveer rose on his own before Dinah could yank him even more out of sorts. As she led him towards the door he turned, getting one last look at his mentor. Brother Avery was still wearing that strange little smile, and as the door swung open and the cool abbey air rushed in Duveer felt a matching one creep back onto his face. Somehow he still knew things would work out all right.

In spite of all of the evidence to the contrary.

* * *

Redwall Abbey wasn't really all that big, but it certainly felt like it some days. The lower floors in particular were honeycombed with stairways and mole tunnels that connected halls and pantries at random. And Badgermum Dinah seemed to be dragging him through every one of them as they worked their way down to the absolute bottom of the abbey, drawing as many eyes as possible along the way.

At length she seemed to realize that her massive paw with its spadelike claws was still digging into his uncovered burns. She loosened her grip suddenly and refastened it a smidgen more gently on the crest of his throbbing right shoulder. "Sorry," she muttered softly enough that passersby couldn't catch her showing leniency.

"Thank you, Badgermum," the fox replied just as softly. He might have had a chance to dart away when she had let go, he supposed, but he wasn't about to get himself into even more trouble yet. _And besides, her legs are more than twice as long as mine._ And he owed her plenty of courtesy anyway – she'd come to his defense just as promptly as she had any other young Abbeybeast's. And if his bony chest bore the bruises to prove he'd suffered her wrath more than once, well, so did Gavin's rump.

"Why do you two do it?" she said aloud. "You and Gavin, I mean. You find new ways to rile each other up every day, and twice on weekends! It can't be that satisfying, can it?"

Duveer hesitated. _Actually, it really is that satisfying most of the time. He's a pompous fool who doesn't need my help to humiliate himself, but that doesn't mean I won't lend a paw whenever he gives me the opportunity_. "Dunno," he replied. "We just never...clicked, I guess. Rubbed each other wrong or something. I mean, it's not like everybeast in the abbey hates me, and –"

Dinah scoffed, setting the fox vibrating as her chest rumbled. "Who said anything about hatred? You'll notice I don't break up your wrestling matches with those otter pups whenever their parents come in from Mossflower." She shook her head and by extension Duveer's whole frame. "I think young Gavin can be an immature fool, and that he's latched onto you as an outlet for his foolishness, but I don't believe even he's particularly hateful."

 _No, no, I'm pretty sure that's hate you've been hearing from him. You_ were _paying attention in the Abbot's chamber just now, weren't you, Badgermum?_ _He's got plenty of hate in him, I'd stake what's left of my fur on that. It's just that he's not_ worth _hating. Far too much hassle._

"And that's why I'm so disappointed in you, Duveer," she continued. _And here we go. Just when I thought I'd chased the ash out of my throat from earlier..._ "I know that you of all beasts are sensitive to tail injuries, so to maim his that way...he must have antagonized you even more than he always does."

 _Oh, for the love of...Badgermum, you don't honestly believe that charlatan, do you?_ Duveer squinted as he thought about Gavin's broken tail again. He still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong with the mouse's story – besides the obvious, of course.

"Maim whose what what way?" The fox swung in Dinah's grip, but he recognized the voice too well even without seeing the squirrel it belonged to. "When I saw you I thought you were just working off another damson wine debt or something, but _maim_? That's not a word you hear here in Redwall."

"No, Miss Talma, it isn't. And that's why Gavin's locked in the infirmary and Duveer's about to be locked in the cellar."

The squirrelmaid – _hated, hated squirrels_ – gasped, and Duveer could just picture her little paws crossed over her mouth daintily. "Gavin?" She stomped around in front of them so she could glare at the fox directly, and like always he flinched away from her long red-brown face, flames roaring out of the shadows behind his eyelids. "What did you do to him after he dragged you out of Cavern Hole?"

"What are you –" Duveer began dizzily, but Dinah interrupted him before he could even wrap his mind around what that _thrice-damned_ treemouse had just said.

"You saw him earlier, Talma? The Abbot will need to hear of this. But to answer your question, Gavin says they quarreled and Duveer stood on his tail until it popped. He's been barred from receiving visitors without permission on account of his own behavior, though, so you'll have to wait." The Badgermum's paw had become a carpenter's vice. Duveer's right arm was going numb, but that was a small concern against the confused thoughts whirling through his head.

"I'll go right up, then. To the Abbot, I mean, not to poor Gavin. And you," her voice was naturally piping but she could always claw her way up to a shriller timbre when Duveer was around, "I hope the Abbot sorts you out properly this time!" She twirled, her habit spinning like a flower in the high plains wind, and trotted out of sight.

Badgermum Dinah struck out again for whatever cellar they were bound for, ominously silent. Duveer had to hop and skip every couple of steps to keep up with her redoubled pace. He could feel his back crumbling again as he was stretched out to his full length by her steel grip. But that was just discomfort and pain, and he'd plenty of practice dealing with both even before he'd been burned beneath his family's cart five seasons past. No, the accursed squirrelmaid had given him something far more painful to think about.

 _She couldn't have known. Literally couldn't have. I was up with Brother Avery the whole time, I really was! So how could she have seen me down in Cavern Hole?_ No, it wasn't worth doubting himself – it wasn't as if he'd sleepwalked down the stairs and through a fight with Gavin! Though with that said, he probably didn't even need to be awake to flatten that clod of a mouse, not even after his recent growth spurt.

 _No. They planned this,_ he decided. _Maybe she really does only know about him leaving Cavern Hole, but_ something _had to happen to his tail. And I wouldn't put it past a squirrel to do that to a friend. No, they knew I was working with Brother Avery, and_ they _were the jealous ones. They always have been._

For some reason Duveer felt like his stomach should be churning at his realization, but really there was nothing shocking except the cunning his enemies had shown. _But Redwall's always been famous for clever wardens. Doesn't stop them from being totally blind half the time anyway, but when they set their minds to something they're relentless and thorough. And I got caught right in front of it._ He evened out his stance as best he could, though he couldn't do much around Dinah's paw. Still, instead of feeling bereaved, he was strangely proud. _And why not? It's almost an honor to be cast down by Redwall's scheming, isn't it? It shows me once and for all where I stand in their eyes: a rival worthy of a mighty deception to cast down._ He swallowed down the lump that had risen in his throat. _I'm a challenge to their brightest minds, not some crippled child!_

 _So why do I feel like crying?_


	2. Chapter 2

The cellar was completely dark, without even a candle or sun-grate, and the young fox couldn't feel anything on the floor or low walls that could act as a bed. "Well, Duveer, this will be your new home until the Father Abbot reaches his decision. I'll be by shortly with a shelf and some bedding for you –" _well, that answers that question_ "– and we'll make sure you're fed too. But with what Talma said I'm sure there will be other witnesses, and I can't tell you what the Abbot will decide in the end. For your sake, I hope you spend your time in here coming to regret what you did – if you ask for forgiveness, we will probably grant it once everybeast's tempers have cooled."

Duveer heard her fiddling with the latch and then thumping away, leaving him alone in the dark. "Forgiveness for what?" he demanded of the stale air. "For the otters bringing me here to heal? For helping Brother Avery transcribe the oldest records of your abbey? For Gavin being a complete fool!" His voice peaked into a scream – really more of a squawk, since it cracked halfway through – and he could not have cared less. _Not like there'd be anyone here to listen anyway, right?_

 _If they could even hear it through that tree trunk they call a door._ He'd always thought the eight-plank oak door to the Recorder's room was massive, and it was, but this cellar chamber was really more of a shallow trough that gave the door room to grow. The little fox half-expected to feel roots under his pads instead of dusty red sandstone. Well, perhaps not literally, but it would at least have been much more interesting.

As it was he was stuck with oppressive boredom on every front. Nothing to see, nothing to feel, nothing to eat – _well, not yet, I suppose –_ and worst of all nothing to read! He could have lived with being penned up like this if he at least had some of his favorite chronicles with him. _Let's see, Mariel Gullwhacker and her father the Bellmaker, those seasons were always classics. And maybe...hmm, I suppose I'm in the mood for Slagar or the Marlfoxes too. I'm not nearly_ that _bad, am I?_

 _I'm locked up in a cellar, so clearly someone thinks I am._ His legs wobbled so he eased himself down, sliding off his apron and wadding it up on the floor. Oh, how scandalized the Abbeybeasts would be to see him undressed this way, and oh, how little he cared. For now, it would let him squat in place for as long as he had to without grinding his footpaws down to nubs. _You know, scandalizing the Abbeybeasts doesn't sound like such a bad idea at this point anyway. I'm just not certain if I could do anything worse than what Gavin and_ Talma _have them believing I did_.

Duveer snarled as he thought of the squirrelmaid, but there was a high whine against the back of his throat too. "She's clever, sure – probably the one who came up with this whole plan, because there's no chance that Gavin thought it up without a lot of help – but I've got no reason to be scared of her." He swallowed hard. "No reason. No reason to be scared."

Eventually the fox got himself back under control. "It's just the dark that's getting to me, that's all. I have to do _something_ or I'll be a gibbering wreck when Tristam finally comes after me."

And then an idea came to him. It was nothing to compare with reading a good story, of course, but it ought to at least be productive. He evened out his stance until he was well and truly balanced, trampling his little apron flat in the process. Then, he bent at the knees and ankles, lowering his body perfectly straightly so as not to agitate his burn scars, and after a surprisingly painful moment pushed himself back up again. _How on earth did that little stretch knock the wind out of me? No, I'm not surrendering this easily!_ So he forced himself to drop down again, though his descent was far more jagged and hesitant this time, and he could barely drag himself upright without shaking his back to pieces. Even though he was already panting heavily, though, he didn't sense any trouble with holding his wide stance, just as he'd always been able to squat low for as long as he needed to.

And so it was that the young fox was standing, legs spread wide and chest heaving, when the latch clattered open. He reflexively straightened up and ducked for his apron, then thought better of it. _It's not like they'll come to an_ even worse _opinion of me at this point, right?_ So he hauled himself back upright yet again and faced the door squarely.

And nearly fell over on his tail when Brother Avery hauled the mighty door open. "You missed breakfast and lunch," he said calmly, not even seeming to react to the fox's appearance – or his surprise. "They had one of the mole crew – Dullack, I think he's called – coming down with your food, but I caught up with him and talked him into letting me bring it instead."

"Brother Avery!" Duveer knew his mentor was violating the Abbot's decree – probably a few of them, in fact – and that stealth was essential, but right now he was just so amazed to see the old mouse that he didn't have room to worry about that. But then the amazement sputtered and died in his chest, leaving only cinders. "Why did you come?"

"You didn't want me here, child? You know I don't believe a thing my other two pupils are saying about you, of course."

"Of course," the fox replied flatly. "But unless you're planning to break me out of here then there's really nothing else to say, is there?" _Why am I saying this? Wasn't I just the one flailing around for something to take my mind off of everything?_

Brother Avery coughed. "I wouldn't go that far. On either front, as it happens." He reached around behind himself and produced a pair of scroll cases. Duveer took them dazedly, eyes wide, and barely even registered setting them down when the gentle mouse brought out a tray with a trio of candles and an inkstone. "You'll recognize the left scroll. It's the Spring of Golden Grass. Sound familiar?"

 _Golden grass..._ "Yes," the fox said slowly. "Wait, that's not the –"

"– The scroll you were transcribing this morning? Why, yes, yes it is. Imagine that."

"Imagine what? I'm not sure what you're getting at, Brother Avery." Duveer shook his head. "It's not exactly one of my favorites or anything."

Brother Avery just snorted. "That's not the point. Think, child. You were transcribing this earlier today, yes? Now, what do you suppose is on the scroll in your right paw?"

The fox was still shaking his head, but wonder had replaced confusion. "It's blank, isn't it?" A cheeky grin split his mentor's face and Duveer realized he was already wearing its mirror. "So all I do is copy it over again –"

"– And there's old Tristam's proof that you were indeed working with me. All he has to do is compare the pensmanship and he'll see it's your doing, and..."

"And the ink will still be fresh enough to prove it was today's project," Duveer finished. "You're a genius, do you know that?"

The mouse grinned even wider. "I have my moments, yes. Just be careful with the candle smoke, all right? It's not going to escape this cell very easily and I'd really rather not see you choke to death right before we prove you're innocent."

Duveer's grin turned to a small frown. "Choke to death? I haven't read about that, I don't think."

Brother Avery waved a paw. "Yes you have. It'll come to you, I'm sure, but it's not important right now. Just get to work. Oh, and one more thing," he added with such a flourish the young fox had to laugh, "don't forget your dinner." He set down the tray of writing tools at last and spun it around, revealing the meal in question. "It's not much, just two short rolls with cheese, but I managed to swap your mug of water for this."

The fox sniffed a few times. "You didn't. Strawberry cordial?"

"Believe me, child, I knew what I was saying earlier. Of course you wouldn't have tapped the October Ale again after the first couple of tries!" And with that, the old mouse eased the door shut and flicked the latch home. He left behind a hopeful but suddenly intensely confused young fox, no longer in the dark and no longer so alone.

* * *

Even with the candles to guide him, Duveer had no idea how long it had been since Brother Avery had been down to visit. His little project had taken him no time at all – assuming those were the standard three-hour-ish candles the beekeepers delivered, it had lasted maybe five or so. _And that was by candlelight!_ But that had been a candle and a half ago, and the last one had guttered and died some time back. He was in the dark again, and his mentor's brief visit had only left him feeling even lonelier.

His stomach was telling him it had been some time, though. The cordial had kept his spirits up for a little, but the bread was so dry and airy that he'd hardly noticed himself tearing into it. And the less said about the greasy cheese, the better. _Must've gotten too close to the candle._ At least it had been there at all, though, but the fox would have given his left footpaw to be up in the Great Hall sharing a meal with the others. And out of this smoke and stale air, too! It was filling his throat more deeply with every breath, even after most of the smoke had escaped around the doorframe.

His legs had stopped burning even before he finished his transcription work, shifting the pain up into his stomach and rump instead. _Looks like Dinah completely forgot about that bedroll she mentioned. Or maybe they just decided it wasn't worth it to comfort that...what did Gavin call me? "Tailless rat," was it? Oh, my dear fool, I'll show you "tailless" one of these days._ Still, it was going to be murder trying to get to sleep like this. There was enough space for him to stretch out, if only because he was still such a runt compared to his parents, but he'd probably wake up with bruised ribs and a crooked neck if he curled up on his stomach and wide-open burn scars if he slept any other way. And there was no way his little green apron would help as a pillow or a blanket.

"So much for famous Redwall hospitality," he spat towards the door. It made sense that they'd punish him if they were all convinced he was guilty, but he wasn't interested in what made sense for them! "Bunch of liars and cowards!"

"Hey, I don't think that's fair," a muffled voice called back from the far side of the door, and Duveer jolted up from his squat. As always when something startled him he stretched his scars to their limits, but while the pain left him a little winded it was certainly nothing new.

Neither was the voice behind the door. "Beddey?" the young fox asked, his own voice cracking. _Nicely done, Duveer. That probably didn't even get past the door._ "Beddey, is that you?" _Ah, much better._

"That's right, mate. Beddey and Kay at your service once again."

The fox's eyes shot open wide. "Kay! Oh, it's good to hear you two again. When did you get here, though?"

He could practically hear the two otters shrug at each other. "Listen, Du, we love to hear your voice too, but not on the other side of a locked door, right, mate? Mm, looks like it's just bolted, nothing special. Give me a minute here, and..." Duveer stepped back from the doorjamb as Kay stepped up to work the latch open. "Bah, it's a little higher up than it looks. Beddey, boost?" A brief pause, then some rattling, then "Ah, that's done it. Set me down before the door flattens us both."

"And when you let go then it'll just flatten me instead? Why, thank you, matey."

"Easy, Kay," Duveer breathed. The otter brothers had quite the catalog of injuries from their inevitably ill-fated attempts to get where they weren't wanted. _But you never know, do you? They might have actually learned something this time._ He licked his lips nervously. _Maybe._

At last the little cracks of light that sneaked under the edges of the door swelled and met, lighting up Duveer where he stood on his apron. The otters were backlit so thoroughly that he couldn't make out their distinctive outfits, but he didn't need that to tell them apart. Beddey's slim shoulders and hips had never quite grown into his gangly limbs, Kay still had his massive cubhood paws that looked thrice as wide as his wrists should support, and both were nearly as short and scrawny as the fox they'd come to save.

 _Actually, about that..._ "How'd you two know I was down here? And, well, why'd you come down?"

Kay tossed his head. "Well, you asked when we'd arrived. We got in this morning and tore on up to old Avery –"

"– _Brother_ Avery," Duveer reminded his friend.

"Right, Kay, to _Brother_ Avery's scroll room. He gave us a couple of bags and told us to come down here."

Duveer frowned. "This morning, though? I only got landed in here this...oh. Oh, that's wonderful."

"Something wrong, mate? Er, more than you being locked in a broom closet?"

Duveer stamped his footpaws hard on his poor apron. _In my defense, it's as much to thrash out the cramps as it is any frustration or ill will on my part. Of course it is._ "Oh, mostly that I've been in that broom closet squatting down on my tunic without any food, water, or light since at least yesterday afternoon!" His voice cracked again and he winced, waiting for the otters to start teasing like they always did.

"Well, matey, that makes it time you came out of there. Don't you think, Kay?"

Duveer lurched forward, his tired and cramped legs buckling under him as he went, and Beddey ducked forward and caught him. "Easy, Du, easy." The otter clicked his tongue just like Brother Dolin always did. "Not as bad as the first time we met, I guess?" The brothers laughed halfheartedly, then blinked at each other as Duveer started cackling.

"I should hope not!" he said. "I'll be fine, Beddey. But thanks." He took a moment to rest there, kicking his legs out behind him to work out the rest of the cramps while holding his friend's blue-green plaid sash for balance. The tiles outside his cell were so much warmer from the torchlight, and the otter's skinny chest was warmer still, and a little bit of his pain fell away.

"Sorry to interrupt you two, but someone'll probably be down here to check on us sooner or later, so we probably need to get going. Er, once you can walk, Du, I mean." Beddey stepped back abruptly, letting the fox pinwheel for balance for just a moment before Kay caught him instead. "My turn, I guess?" He pulled Duveer in for a quick hug all the more ferocious for its brevity, then set him down squarely on his paws when Beddey jabbed his chin up the hall.

"You're right, brother. We'll need to get out of here before Da starts to wonder why we skipped the welcome feast." Kay groaned at the reminder.

And that made the fox curious. _Always a dangerous thing._ "What do you mean, 'we'll' need to go?" He shook his head, still hopping from one footpaw to the other. "I mean, I always love it when your clan comes in to visit, and I really appreciate the rescue, but you really ought to get up to the feast before you're missed." _And because if you start talking about it, my stomach will growl loud enough to wake the king in Southsward!_

"Come on, mate, you don't think we're letting you carry this bloody great sack alone, right? With your bad back? I'd never forgive myself!"

"And I'd never forgive him either," Beddey chimed in. All three of them laughed, though Duveer fought to keep his voice down in case somebeast was near enough to eavesdrop by now. "Seriously, Du, we're coming with you. You're our only sparring partner here, after all! And who else is brave enough to go climbing the old sparrow attic or down that hole in the stairs with us?"

The fox's smile narrowed wickedly. "Well, you could always take Gavin with you, give him a little accident for me."

Kay cocked his head. "Not a bad idea, actually, but our minds are made up." But Duveer noticed that Beddey was suddenly frowning. _He hasn't had to deal with that fool nearly as much as I have, I suppose._ "Pa and Ma still don't really approve of you, especially after what you did to Jem's pottery last autumn. So, since we'd rather not get our tails tanned – er, sorry."

The otter's face suddenly fell, then burst right back to smiling when Duveer waved it away. "Don't worry, Kay. I'm not mad at you for having proper tails. Just envious."

For his part, Beddey had started sniggering at Kay's remark and showed no signs of stopping. "Might be why your eyes light up whenever a squirrel runs by you." That comment earned him a searing glare from the fox, but he just kept laughing, and Duveer could never scowl at these two for long.

"Well, we want to go with you," Kay concluded, "and that's that. No arguments, right, mate?"

Duveer looked at his two friends slowly, footpaws finally coming to rest on the stone. "Well then. Couldn't you have told me all that as we ran?"

Beddey gave a sharp barking laugh, the same one he made whenever Duveer tossed Kay across the lawn in a wrestling match. "Aren't you going to grab your frock before we go, matey?"

"Eh." Now it was the fox's turn to shrug. "Might be nice for Brother Avery to have some memento of me, I suppose. I'll come up with something on the road – honestly, I've always thought your sashes and skirts –"

"– _Kilts!_ "

"– Looked like a better design for the sort of mischief we always get each other into."

Kay looked him up and down. "Well, if it's mischief you're after, I'd say you definitely look better without the kitchen clothes. Now can we go? I really don't want Pa to realize what we're up to."

Duveer chuckled a little longer, then nodded crisply. Beddey shouldered the bulging pack he'd brought from Brother Avery, and the trio set off down the cross-hall at a trot.

* * *

 _The wonderful thing about feastdays,_ Duveer reflected, _is that nobeast watches where they're going._ He was certainly guilty of that on the days he'd been stuck on kitchen duty instead of upstairs enjoying the food – which had been most of them – and ironically hadn't realized that all of the others were just as bad. They'd had to cross two well-trafficked hallways already, one leading to the ovens and the other to the ale cellar, and they hadn't been accosted at all. It just took a little patience, and there'd be an opening to duck through without anybeast registering the scarred fox they were about to trip over. And now they were tucked safely out of sight, their alcove dimly lit from back around the corner and otherwise completely uninhabited.

But all the same, despite his long hours spent down in these halls, the fox had no idea where to go to get outside. Oh, he could find his way back to the Great Hall or Cavern Hole eventually, but he wasn't keen on trying to slip through _those_ crowds. Especially not with the otters in tow. _A fine way to repay them for their help_ that _would be,_ he thought with a snort. Still, though, where was the way out?

"Du?" Beddey was crouched over just behind Duveer, his breath wetting down the fox's burns. "You know how to get us out from here, don't you?" _Of course not. I just got through thinking that at myself, I don't need you chiming in._ But there was no malice in the thought.

Kay wasn't bothering to play at being stealthy. His tall, relaxed posture probably made him the most unobtrusive of the lot, in fact, but the fox was so worried about urgency that he didn't bother trying it himself. _Besides, I'd just clack into Beddey's jaw, and he'd make such a noise we'd be tracked down in an instant._ "We just came down with the brew carriers, so we'll need you to get us out of here, all right, mate?"

Duveer nibbled his lip quietly. _I wish I knew how._ "Maybe Brother Avery left us a clue? Do you think there's room to unwrap those bags here?"

The left side of Kay's face scrunched up as he considered it. "Wouldn't put it past the old mouse. But I don't think it's a good idea to open it all right now. What if we have to bolt?"

"Then we bolt," Beddey said matter-of-factly. "Even if it's useful, we can make do once we're out in Mossflower. We've all done it before at some point, right, Du?"

"Never on my own," the fox answered in a tiny voice. He fiddled with his paws anxiously, giving his body something to do that at least dimly mirrored his racing thoughts.

One of Kay's big clumsy paws came down on Duveer's shoulder, well above the danger zone of his back. "Well, mate, you're not alone this time either. All we have to do is get there, right?"

"Pity we can't just ask for directions," the fox muttered sulkily. "I think I've got you two stuck with me until your parents walk past. We can make a dash for it after that, maybe?"

Beddey nodded, folding his spindly arm awkwardly to pat Duveer's other shoulder. "Could work. I'm sure they'll check the cider stores for us first, after all. And then maybe your cell if the old Abbot makes the connection. That's all in the opposite direction, though, and if the stairs are quiet then...hmm."

The otter paused to give the desperate idea more thought, but something else had just clicked into place in Duveer's head. "Ask for directions," he said with a soft chuckle. "We'll do it that way, then."

"Er, Du? You've got something saner than the run-past-the-search-party plan?"

The fox grinned. "Oh, I think so. You see, I can't ask for directions out of here. But you two can!"

The otters staggered back in surprise. "Du, matey, I thought Kay just asked for a _sane_ plan. We're trying not to get caught down here, remember?"

Duveer just kept chuckling. "Oh, I know. But think about it. You said it yourselves! Where's the first place even your suspicious father would go searching for you? For that matter, how'd you get down here in the first place? And, most importantly, where would your average Abbeybeast not be surprised to find a couple of young troublemakers from outside the walls, especially on a feastday?" _Now, which of them will get their tongue back first?_

"That...actually is pretty sane, I think." _Congratulations, Beddey!_ "Though it's not like we're the best creatures to judge." The trio shared another little laugh. Indeed, in just the short time since they'd broken open his cell the two otters had washed away most of Duveer's pain and anger. "Well, Kay, my matey, do you think you'd be up for it?"

"Sure, can't be too bad. I guess it's what I get for being the last one to figure it out, right?" The otter tugged his lilac and Redwall-green sash into place – _well, into place for a drunkard or a fool, which suits him better than he'd appreciate me telling him_ – and swaggered out into the hallway. Duveer and Beddey crouched deeper into their alcove, not that the fox sensed any particular danger, and he quirked up his ears and listened for Kay's attempt.

"Hello there – ah, excuse me! Whoops!" There hadn't been any major outcry or the clatter of falling pottery, though from Kay's anxious tone it was probably a near-run thing. "Woah, I'm sorry about that, miss. Can I help you with anything?"

"Please, Kay, just get out of my way." _What was that I was just saying about being out of danger?_ Duveer reached behind himself and dragged Beddey in close, not bothered nearly as much as he should have been by the familiar bristly fur that prodded his scars.

"Oh, ah, Miss...er, Talma, right? Say, it's been a while, and...well, I'm lost down here. I want to let you be, believe me, I really do." _I don't doubt it, Kay. It's a sentiment many share._ "But I need a little help with it." _I'll give him credit, he's a good actor. Comes from all those times he managed to duck the blame for his stunts, I'm sure._

The squirrelmaid scoffed. "What might you be doing down here in the first place, Kay? The Skipper is upstairs at the feast, no? It's for you and your clan, after all. Unless," her tone sharpened even thinner than usual, "you're down here looking for someone?"

"Well, I've been a little disappointed that Du didn't come barreling out to meet us like he usually does. Little fox owes my brother and me his life, doesn't he?" _Yes, Kay, that I do._ Duveer squeezed Beddey's wrists gently, just a bit of a payment for the huge debt he'd worked up with the otter brothers. "But, ah, that wasn't what I was down here for. I mean, it's been a while, but I still knew just fine what was waiting at the end of the hall."

"Oh, is _that_ why we were running a couple of tankards low on strawberry cordial tonight?" Duveer winced, accidentally clenching down on Beddey's wrists enough to make the otter gasp. He rubbed them ruefully and then let go entirely, since it really had been an accident. _Still, Talma and the Badgermum here all at once? This is far too much of a coincidence for my liking._ "Well, it's a time-honored tradition here at the Abbey, after all. And those were destined for you and your family anyway, so I suppose you just saved a little time. Let me guess, though, you're trying to find a way out that doesn't run past your father's watchful eyes?"

There was an awkward silence of exactly the right length. Then, "Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

Lady Dinah snorted. "I didn't say I was going to help you, did I?" Another awkward silence, this one far longer than Duveer's nerves were willing to endure. He started fidgeting, dancing from paw to paw until Beddey pushed his face up against the wall to keep him still. _I ought to resent this, but "resentment" and "Beddey and Kay" simply don't fit together in the slightest._ "Well, I imagine you knew all along that I would. Quickly, head up that side hallway and you'll come to some stairs outside. They'll let you out by the orchard, and you can get yourself muddy enough to pretend you were just exploring the grounds again. If you hurry up, I promise not to tell a soul."

"I don't," Talma chimed in, surprising nobeast. "But I suppose it isn't worth getting worked up over. Not compared to what happened yesterday." _Oh, you utter fraud. And I thought_ Kay _was doing a good job of acting. Hellsteeth, those squirrels are...they're just..._

Beddey's frantic shoulder taps brought Duveer back to the present. Kay was coming around the corner already, and the duo scuttled deeper along the hallway into the shadows ahead of them before Talma or Lady Dinah or some other curious Abbeybeast could come after them.

"You heard, I'd bet," Kay burbled happily once they were presumably out of earshot of the brewer's hall. "You've got great instincts, Du. Have I ever told you that?"

"Oh, stow it," the fox said tiredly.

* * *

Duveer had more than half-expected the Badgermum's directions to lead straight into a trap, but to his amazement the trio soon found themselves surfacing at the foot of a short set of stairs up to the Abbey orchard. A strange feeling fluttered at the base of the fox's chest, one he couldn't entirely pin down.

"And you doubted her, eh, Du?" Beddey certainly wasn't the otter to ask about it, then. "Seriously, matey, what happened to you down there?"

The fox frowned. "If I tell you, either you'll waste time hugging me or I'll scream and bring everybeast running. Frankly I'm not sure which I'd like less right now." _Well, I didn't mean it quite that way. Still, I've had enough contact for the moment._

"That bad, eh, mate?" Kay winked at him. "I guess we can't have one last bout for memory's sake either, then. Ah well, just like with the feast – it's better when you catch it yourself."

Duveer cleared his throat. "I'm not certain how that relates to pitching you tail over tip into a tree, but I'll take your word for it. So, any thoughts on actually," he swallowed a few times, "leaving the abbey?" _Why am I so hesitant again? Half of me wants to dance a jig, but the bigger half is so...melancholy, I guess is the word._

"Believe it or not, mate, we're actually ahead of you on this one." Kay smirked. "I know _I_ don't believe it, even after that performance down in the halls tonight."

Duveer cocked his head at the otter in invitation. "Well, O Master Strategist, what do you have in mind?"

Kay and Beddey chuckled. "Easy, Du," Beddey answered after they had enjoyed themselves sufficiently. "We walk out the wicker gate."

Duveer just stared at him. "Just like that? I mean, isn't that gate usually guarded? Normally to keep bandits out instead of in, but that doesn't help much." He frowned. "Unless you're suggesting we sneak up on the sentry and club him over the head or something, which I'm not particularly interested in doing. Bad enough they'll probably assume I've kidnapped you two without me adding assault or murder to the list!"

"No!" The otters recoiled in perfect unison. "Of course we didn't mean that, Du, come on!" Beddey said in such a rush that he swallowed half the words.

"But it's feastday, Du, and they always take the guards off the walls and gates at feastday. If anyone wants in they can just knock loudly enough and someone'll come running, and that's that."

The fox squinted at Kay. _I never knew that. The things you miss when you're always downstairs chopping onions and braising pond trout._ "If you're sure, then lead the way." Kay hesitated a moment. "Aha! What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing, nothing," the otter said soothingly. "Just, if I'm wrong, I think it's my brother's turn to handle the fast talking. What do you say, mate?"

The shadows were getting longer by the minute. Indeed, they'd already stretched so long they were starting to blend together into dusk at the far end of the orchard. "Well," Duveer said before Beddey could object, "if we're going to do this I say we do it soon. I'd say 'follow me' but if you _are_ wrong then I'm the last beast you want to be seen with. So I won't say it, I'll just do it." Sticking to the dark swatches between the trees and beneath the wall, Duveer darted towards the gate as quickly as his scars would allow.

The otters came bustling up behind him, nowhere near as quietly but without panting nearly as much by the end of it either, and Beddey kept scurrying ahead to the gatehouse. The entryway was still dark, barely catching the last of the reflected light from the soft red rock walls that gave the abbey its name. _Safely_ dark, Duveer realized, without a trace of the lamplight that ought to be studding it by now. And, indeed, Beddey called out the all-clear from the gate as he lifted the heavy latch.

 _That's it?_ The fox twisted all around, jerking his head from point to point in search of the inevitable ambush. _This has gone too smoothly. There has to be some trap, some catch. Redwallers can be blind sometimes, but when they've got someone to guard they're never_ this _dense._ But here he was, and here they were, and there was nothing and nobeast standing between them and the edge of Mossflower Wood. And just a quick minute later, the wood was safely between them and the abbey, between them and anybeast who might come out in search of the three renegades.

"We've got time and space to spare now," Duveer said after a few more minutes of walking over roots and through low shrubs. "Let's see what Brother Avery left us." Kay spread the sacks on the ground without argument this time, letting the fox squat down to unravel the cords holding them shut. Even in the poor light, Duveer's eyes could plainly make out the contents. "Robes, bedroll – just one, though, hmm – a couple of sealed bottles wrapped in more robes...hmm, what do we have here?"

What they had were three wood-paneled scroll cases, capped in dully reflective pewter sculpted in the likeness of the legendary Methuselah – the seal of the Abbey Recorder's office for untold seasons. One of the cases was far shorter than the other two, though, and Duveer reached for that and popped the seal into the bag. The parchment slid out easily, and this time he felt both otters breathing down his neck as he unrolled the single strip and squinted at the words.

 _Definitely Brother Avery's paw. But I've never seen something written so hastily. Not in the Recorder's office, at least._ "My dearest Duveer," it began, and the fox felt the lead and ashes from the day before settle back home. "I have sent your good friends Beddey and Kay –" leaves crunched as the otters danced a quick jig around each other at the recognition "– with these packages. The feast has distracted the Badger Lady from seeing to you in time, and I could not stomach the thought of my old student spending a second night on the stone. This should keep you comfortable until you can defend yourself to Tristam. Remember our plan!"

The fox swallowed nervously as the scrawl bled together, the haste – or perhaps passion – clearly taking hold now. "Whatever the otters tell you, do not leave Redwall or you will never be able to come home. Do not, Duveer. The abbot may banish you anyway. If you leave on your own you guarantee it. Please stay where you are. For me."

Kay thumped down on the leaves next to him, short claws twirling in the dirt. "Well, I feel like a complete fool."

Duveer crumpled up the note and stuffed it back in the tube haphazardly. "Don't. Well, I suppose you should be used to it, but there's no need." He sighed. "Brother Avery thought he was protecting me, and he definitely tried, but I was sick of abbey life anyway."

Beddey's voice was unusually somber. "But Du, matey, what about your scrolls? That little napping shelf you showed us? Redwall's got a lot to offer, too."

The fox shook his head viciously enough to tug at his scars. "Like a day and a half without food, water, or light because everybeast but you is too busy feasting to bother? I'm glad you came to find me, and I'm gladder still you helped me get away." He swallowed hard and blinked a few times. "The Abbeydwellers wanted me gone even more than I did, after all. At least because of you two clods I got to set out with friends."

"Well then," Kay answered brightly, "who gets the bedroll?"


End file.
